


Satan Claus

by sanctuary_for_all



Series: The Lord and Ladies of Hell [8]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Established Relationship, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-07-12 20:24:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7121311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanctuary_for_all/pseuds/sanctuary_for_all
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A misspelled letter causes Lucifer to accidentally stumble his way into some Christmas spirit. Being Lucifer, he drags everyone else along with him. </p><p>(Or, as Trixie put it, "It's like 'Nightmare Before Christmas' with less kidnapping.")</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this](http://sanctuaryforalluniverses.tumblr.com/post/145474165251/batwynn-pretentious-git) Tumblr post.

Lucifer leaned against the edge of the bar, flipping through the mail. One was a bill from Dr. Linda – that one really should have gone to his accountant – one was from someone in prison seeking a favor, three were junk mail, two were from former lovers – a Calvin Klein underwear model named David and a high-powered lawyer named Maura – who would both likely be quite upset when they found out Lucifer had discovered monogamy, a letter from what appeared to be a small child—

Wait. A child?

Lucifer set down the rest of the mail to take a closer look at the envelope in question, written mostly in crayon block printing. The only part that wasn't was the mailing label in the corner giving the address for someone named Amelia Jorgensen, though the "Amelia" had been crossed out and MAT written above it in the same crayon. The address in the center of the envelope said "N. POLL," whatever that meant, but the name written above it was unmistakable. SATAN.

Lucifer's brow furrowed. "Maze!" he called out. "Do we know any child Satanists?"

After a suitable enough pause to make it clear she wasn't coming at his beck and call, Maze wandered in. "Technically, Trixie might count." There was actually a mild amount of interest in her voice, there solely because the possible connection to Trixie. The girl was even better with the denizens of Hell than her mother. "She doesn't worship you, but she does like you."

"It's not Trixie." He showed her the envelope, watched the interest vanish instantly. Except for Trixie, they both still considered children to be a foreign species. "And what does N. Poll mean?"

Maze shrugged. "Open it and find out."

Lucifer did, squinting at the carefully printed but somehow still nearly illegible letters inside. "Whoever it is, they write like an alcoholic," he muttered, trying to translate as he went. "It's possible I missed something, but whoever it is appears to be asking for a pony." There was a picture at the bottom, of a long-bodied creature with two legs and points on the top of its head, that neither confirmed nor denied his theory.

Maze's brow lowered. "Are children allowed to ask the Devil for favors?"

He held up a hand in a wordless "I don't know." "It's never happened before. We've had a few prepubescent sociopaths appear in Hell over the centuries, but generally they were busy enough pretending to be good boys and girls that they never got around to asking me to do their murdering for them."

Maze shook her head a little. "And even then, I don't think any of them would have asked for a pony." She leaned over the note, taking a closer look. "Also, I think that might actually say 'cake.' None of the mini sociopaths I've dealt with would have bothered to ask you for that."

Lucifer re-examined the bit she was talking about, deciding she was right. "So, they want a pony and cake." The last request made him think of Trixie, and suddenly he found himself softening toward the mysterious child entirely on the basis of that association. He picked up the envelope again, checking the address. "It probably wouldn't be too difficult to make the necessary arrangements...."

"Seriously?" Maze gave him a disbelieving look. "And what favor are you going to get in return? Someone to share their chocolate milk with you?"

"Of course not," he said dismissively. "Trixie already does that." He studied the "To" address again, brow furrowed. N. Poll didn't remind him of any address in the city, and it certainly didn't bring to mind any particular location in hell. Maybe it would give him some sign as to why this random child had sought him out....

He tapped the edge of the envelope against his hand, deciding something. "I need to consult an expert about this." He checked his watch. "Luckily, Trixie should be having her lunch break in 20 minutes."

Maze shook her head with a sigh. "I'd be embarrassed for you if I didn't know Trixie's schedule just as well as you did."

Lucifer gave her an amused look. "What you should really be embarrassed about is that you're on Trixie's 'approved adults' list."

Maze closed her eyes, looking pained. "Don't remind me."


	2. Chapter 2

He checked in with the front office of Trixie’s school like a responsible citizen, not out of a fealty to the rules but to re-enforce the fact that the school couldn’t let just anyone walk off with Trixie, whether or not they carried a badge. Malcolm had been safely back in hell for months, but Lucifer still occasionally considered tormenting the school administration for their part in the kidnapping.

Trixie was indeed at lunch, and when he called her name she jumped up with a delighted expression that pleased him far more than the lustful looks he received from several teachers. The other children were far less interested, considering him less important than wreaking havoc with their chicken nuggets.

She ran to him, throwing her arms around him the same way she always did. It wasn’t quite the shock it had been the first several times she’d done it, a gesture from an alien world, but he still felt a strange little jolt in his chest every time she did it. “Lucifer! Did you come to have lunch with me?”

He smoothed a hand over her hair, an automatic gesture he never realized he was about to do until it had already happened. “Actually, darling, I was hoping you could help me with something.”

000

They sat on one of the benches outside, Trixie scooting closer to Lucifer’s side as he handed her the plastic fork and a container with a slice of chocolate cake. She took it, batting her eyelashes up at him. “You _know_ , you used to bring me a _whole_ cake when you needed me to do something.”

He shot her a look that said he respected what she was trying to do, but that she was dealing with a master. “Your mother is far less likely to kiss me when I give you entire chocolate cakes. I’m protecting my own interests.” He gestured to the cake. "Though, if it's any consolation, it does have a layer of peppermint chocolate mousse inside."

Her face lit, and she popped off the top of the container and took a big forkful of cake. Examining it from all sides, she put the cake in her mouth and chewed. After a second, she gave him a thumbs up and handed him her lunch bag. "You can't finish the milk all the way," she said, mouth still full of cake. "But you can finish the other half of my sandwich. It's the good raspberry jam and I put some of my potato chips on it, which made it even better."

Lucifer took a drink of the chocolate milk, setting it back down in the narrow wedge of space between them before pulling out the sandwich half. He took an experimental sniff, lifted the corner to determine that it had indeed been made with chunky peanut butter, then bit off the corner. It was, in fact, surprisingly good, salty and sweet, and he continued chewing as he handed her the envelope. "I need you to tell me what this means," he said, slinging the arm closest to her around the back of the bench.

Putting another forkful of cake in her mouth, she propped the container on one leg as she examined the letter. After a second, she handed it back to him. "I think it's for Santa, but the kid can't spell very well." Her tone seemed to completely ignore the fact that she herself was also a child.

"Santa?" Lucifer's brow lowered, oddly disappointed that the letter hadn't actually been addressed to him. "What kind of bargains does he make? Is he some sort of Devil for children?"

"No, he—" Trixie stopped, thinking about it. "Well, I guess he sort of is like the Devil, but he wants people to be good and follow the rules instead of do fun stuff."

Lucifer couldn't help but glance up. "One of his, then?"

Trixie's brow furrowed. "Maybe. A lot of this stuff isn't really covered in the stories." She shrugged. "He's not really real, anyway. Mom found out I don't believe in him anymore last year, and now she doesn't really like to talk about him." She took another fork full of cake, but this time held it out to him. "Where is Mom, by the way? She's not catching bad guys on her own, is she?"

Lucifer took the bite, chewing thoughtfully – he was definitely going to have to remember to buy this kind again – then shook his head. "She's at court today. Giving testimony on the serial arsonist case we worked last month." He was quite happy to avoid those days – court was deadly dull, unless someone got angry enough to punch someone – and it was impossible for him _not_ to be brilliantly rude and cutting when lawyers asked him stupid questions. 

She nodded. "And how's it going with the thing you're looking for?"

Lucifer's entire mood darkened for a moment. "Frustratingly." He pushed all thoughts of his mother aside, taking another bite of sandwich before picking up the letter again. "So if he's not real, these children never get what they asked for?"

"Their parents probably get it for them, if they tell their parents." She moved the chocolate milk out of the way so she could lean in close for another look at the letter. "He probably won't get a pony, though. Parents almost never actually get kids a pony, no matter how good they are."

He was almost surprised at how offended he was by the thought. "That's appalling. These children bargained in good faith – if they held up their end of the deal, they deserve the recompense they asked for." He looked back at the envelope, a new resolve filling him. "Well, luckily for this one, he accidentally wrote to someone who _always_ honors the bargains he makes."

"He's probably not the only one," Trixie said thoughtfully, leaning back against Lucifer's arm as she chewed her cake. "It's a common spelling mistake."

"Really." He took another bite of the sandwich, intrigued. "Tell me more."


	3. Chapter 3

At Trixie's recommendation, Lucifer started collecting his rightful letters at the post office. It was an appalling place, its creator having clearly put some significant time and effort into making the building as drab and unpleasant as possible. Luckily, the desperately bored and highly suggestible older woman at the counter was more than happy to hunt up the letters for him in exchange for some moderate flirting and encouragement to follow her true desires and become a professional mud wrestler.

"Gladys, you're a treasure." Lucifer gave her his most charming smile as she slid three letters across the counter, impulsively peeling off a hundred dollar bill from the roll in his pocket. "First bikini's on me."

Trixie had also mentioned there were letters at the mall, in the keeping of some charlatan who had been hired to pose as this Santa person and con children into believing a proper deal had been made. He even had a throne – though the constant striping on the thing did reduce the majesty a bit – surrounded by fake trees and what appeared to be piles of cotton. A line of children and their parents wound through the trees, full of whining, sneezing and muttered arguments. The child actually on Santa's lap, a snot-covered toddler, was sobbing uncontrollably. 'Santa' himself, who should clearly fire his tailor, had the hunted look of a man dreaming of being literally anywhere else.

A part of Lucifer felt he should be taking notes. _This_ was how you did eternal suffering.

"You do realize this 'Santa' is really just an actor in a poorly fitting beard, right?" he whispered, leaning over a boy intent on a hand-held gaming system. The woman next to him was equally intent on her phone, seemingly completely unaware of either the child or Lucifer's presence.

The boy nodded without looking up. "Yeah. The real guy's up at the North Pole. Dad says he just hired these guys so the paparazzi can't find him."

He straightened again, studying the child. The boy had the same mix of innocence and deadpan practicality that Trixie possessed, and Lucifer found himself strangely reluctant to disillusion him with the truth. "What do you truly desire, small creature?" he asked instead.

This made the boy look up, studying Lucifer with a suddenly curious expression. "You're weird," he said finally, then grinned. "I like you."

Lucifer blinked, surprised, then pulled out a business card some hopeful but doomed to be disappointed soul had slid into his pocket the night before. Checking to make sure nothing lewd had been written on it, he scrawled his name and number on the back and handed it to the child. "If Santa fails to hold up his end of the deal, feel free to give me a call. Now, if you would be so kind as to point me to the letters?"

It turned out they were in a cardboard box painted to look like a chimney, located back at the entrance to the line. Lucifer sorted through the various letters, ignoring the glares of various parents dragging their children towards the false Santa. Most of these letter writers appeared to be decent spellers, unfortunately, though one writer with a love of pink and a tendency to jumble letters did add another letter to his count. Just a few more....

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?!"

Lucifer glanced up to see a man hurrying over wearing a ridiculous bell hat, fake ears and pointed shoes, an expression on his face that of someone who hated whatever alcohol he'd just been persuaded to try but couldn't admit it to his associates. "Getting my mail, of course." He dropped the handful of envelopes he'd already sorted through into the man's hands before reaching for more. "If you'd hold these for me?"

The man threw the envelopes, startling a father and daughter duo who had been headed towards the line. They wisely turned around as the ridiculously dressed man – perhaps this was one of the 'elves' Trixie mentioned – stomped his foot. "No, I will not hold those for you! Those letters are our property, not yours! If you don't get out of here right this second, I'm going to call—"

Setting the letters back on top of the box, Lucifer grabbed a fistful of the man's shirt and yanked him closer. He could feel the hellfire simmering behind his eyes, forcibly reminding himself that causing an incident at the mall while she was stuck at court would upset Chloe. He smiled instead, leaning closer. "You know, the moment I saw you I thought 'This is a man meant for more than this decorating nightmare.'"

That startled him, the anger on his face flickering and vanishing. "Really?"

"Of course." Lucifer let go of the shorter man, smoothing out the front of his shirt. "A man of passion, clearly. So tell me – what is it you truly desire?"

The man struggled for less than a second. "I want someone to recognize me!" He threw his hands in the air, making his bell ring with the vehemence of his movement. "I was a lab tech in a hit police procedural for _two years_ before I was killed off last season, and I haven't been asked for an autograph once! No one even stops me and asks 'Hey, aren't you from that one show?'"

Lucifer narrowed his eyes at him, trying to see if he happened to remember him from any after parties, then shook his head. "Try porn. People tend to be more memorable if they're naked." He turned back to the bin of letters. "Now, why don't you stand there a moment and hold some things for me, and you can tell me all about how unappreciated you are?"

The man immediately launched into a long winded-explanation about some college performance of Hamlet, and Lucifer promptly tuned him out and returned his attention to the letters. He had more children to find.


	4. Chapter 4

Chloe was always exhausted after a day at court, but it helped to come home and find Lucifer and Trixie with their heads bent together over the kitchen table. They were deep in discussion about something, regularly referring to the papers spread out between them, and Chloe felt a surge of affection for them both as she set the pizza down on the counter. "And what are you two scheming about?"

Trixie bounced up, a delighted expression on her face. "Lucifer's gonna be Santa Claus!"

That threw Chloe for a second. You got used to a lot of strangeness when you were dating the Lord of Hell, but this was new. "Wait, what?"

"I'm not actually going to become Santa Claus," Lucifer explained dryly, handing Chloe one of the envelopes. "If nothing else, I wouldn't be caught dead in that outfit of his. But Trixie said that there are deals not being fulfilled, and since these are technically mine I thought I'd show these infants how a proper deal is handled."

Chloe looked down at the envelope, which did indeed have "Satan" written across the front in childish print. "Lucifer, you know—"

"That it's a spelling error? Yes." Lucifer shrugged, leaning back in the chair with a smirk. His eyes, however, sparkled like a little kid's, and Chloe realized that she was probably not going to have the willpower to shut this down completely. "It's also an extremely convenient loophole."

Trixie nodded. "It's like 'The Nightmare Before Christmas' with less kidnapping." Her face lit, and she added something to the list in front of her. "We should make Lucifer watch that with us for our holiday movie marathon, along with 'Elf.' I think he'd like Buddy."

Chloe hesitated, picturing her and Trixie snuggling together on the couch in their pajamas with big mugs of peppermint hot chocolate and a container of spray whipped cream. It was unabashedly dorky, a tradition not even Dan had ever shown any interest in participating in, and she'd been certain Lucifer "Effortlessly Cool" Morningstar wouldn't find it any more appealing. "Listen, sweetheart, I'm sure Lucifer's too busy to...."

She let the words trail off as she watched Lucifer's expression close off, a flash of hurt in his eyes before he packed it away behind the old cockiness, and Chloe realized she'd made a terrible mistake. "We should really get back to our plan of action, darling," he was saying, turning back to Trixie's disappointed expression. "I agree that the full-sized spaceship is impractical, but surely he'd be disappointed with anything small—"

"I was afraid you'd think it was dumb."

Both Lucifer and Trixie looked up at Chloe's quiet words. She couldn't read Lucifer's expression, but Trixie looked as offended as she did that one time Chloe had accidentally implied that "Steven Universe" might not be the greatest TV series in the entire world. "Movie night is the best thing ever!" she insisted, turning to Lucifer to see if he needed convincing. "We spend the whole day in our pajamas, use a whole can of whip cream, and we come up with new traps Kevin could use in 'Home Alone,' and when we decorate the tree we dance to Christmas music and—"

"I think he gets the picture, baby," Chloe said gently, cutting her off, then turned to Lucifer. "So, has she convinced you? There's plenty of room on the couch, and I'll even buy a second can of spray whipped cream."

"Ah, the jokes I would make if Trixie wasn't in the room." But Lucifer's voice had gone soft, and when he smiled at Chloe it was his real one. "I suppose you'll expect me to bring my robe as well?"

She smiled back at him, hearing the unspoken "yes." "As long as you're wearing pants, I won't argue."

"Can I wear the robe, then? It's very silky." Before anyone could answer, Trixie picked up a letter and handed it to Chloe. "I told Lucifer a real rocket ship would be too big, but he's afraid a toy won't be fulfilling the deal. What do you think?"

"Definitely not a real rocket ship – if nothing else, I'm pretty sure you'd have to commit a crime to get your hands on one." She scanned the letter, then realized there was an even more pressing issue. "And no harassment calls or stalking to determine whether the kids are behaving well enough to deserve their presents. I'm vetoing that right now."

"Spoilsport." Lucifer's voice was affectionate. "But fear not. It's not stalking if no one catches you doing it, and Maze is unparalleled when it comes to skulking about."

Chloe sighed. "That's not exactly comforting."

Trixie waved a dismissive hand, a gesture Chloe was suddenly absolutely certain she'd picked up from Lucifer. "Don't worry, Mom – it'll be fun. Now, what about the space ship? Do we get him a toy, or one of those rides from the mall?"

Chloe shook her head. "No, the ride would definitely also involve theft." They were both looking at her expectantly, as if she was about to offer practical advice, and she felt the last of her good sense give up. "If the kid's little, get a play car they can drive in that looks like a spaceship. If they're older, get them the fanciest, most detailed model you can find."

They both nodded. "Excellent," Lucifer said, as if she'd just given him useful advice, then pushed another letter forward. "This one, though, I'm afraid we'll need more practical assistance on. It seems as though all this little girl wants for Christmas is her big sister to come home." He gave her what could only be described as 'puppy dog eyes.' "I'm thinking that, between the two of us, we know this city well enough that we should be able to track one little runaway without too much trouble."

"Please, Mom?" Trixie added her own puppy dog eyes to the mix. "Since Santa's not around to do this Christmas movie-type stuff, _someone's_ got to."

Chloe hesitated. "Are we sure her home situation is the kind of thing she'll want to go back to?" she asked carefully.

Lucifer's expression turned dark for a moment. "If not, I'll take care of that as well."

"Or you could, oh I don't know, let the police take care of it." Still, she pulled out a chair and sat down, grabbing a fresh piece of paper from Trixie. "We can get some basic information off the letter, and I can check the database tomorrow."

"See?" Trixie smiled at Lucifer. "I told you she'd make a good elf."


	5. Chapter 5

Some things are beyond the pale, even for a demon.

"No!" Maze didn't bother to keep the horror out of her voice. If there had been anyone else in the bar to overhear this insanity, it would have been even worse. "Absolutely not! I can't believe you'd even ask me that!"

"Come _on_ , Maze." Lucifer used his best cajoling voice, the one he'd used to talk her out of Hell in the first place. A sensible demon would just start stabbing him every time he tried to use it. "There's no one better at moving unseen through the shadows than you. If I tried lurking outside people's windows, I'd be arrested almost immediately."

"You say that as if I wouldn't enjoy seeing you in jail," Maze said flatly, folding her arms across her chest. "Besides, how am I supposed to tell whether the little monsters are being well-behaved or not? Tax laws make more sense to me than human behavior rules!"

Lucifer shrugged. "Of course you understand tax laws more. It may be subtler than our usual tortures, but that sort of thing is still instinctive." Then he smirked. "Which is why you'll take Trixie with you. She'll be able to tell whether they're misbehaving, and the two of you can get in some girl bonding time."

Maze scowled, knowing she was in trouble. Even with the girl's father in jail, she didn't get to spend _nearly_ enough time with Trixie. "You should be embarrassed that those are the kind of temptations you're handing out these days."

Lucifer's smirk only widened. "Are you telling me it's not going to work?"

Maze's glare sharpened as she tried to stare him down, then she huffed. "Fine. But you're the one who has to get permission from her mother, and Trixie and I _will_ be getting ice cream." She gave him a pointed look. "No matter _what_ your detective has to say about it."

The smirk transformed into a self-satisfied grin that was no less annoying. "Of course." He pulled an envelope out of his jacket pocket, handing it over. "And now, as a reward for your team spirit...."

Brow furrowed, Maze took the letter he handed her. "Why would I care about one of the little monster's letters?" She noticed something else. "This one isn't even to you. It's to the Santa guy."

Lucifer's expression hardened, shifting from amused club owner to the Lord of Hell she'd first sworn to serve all those millennia ago. "I know. But if you read it, you'll find it's under our purview anyway."

Curious now, Maze pulled the letter out of the already opened envelope and scanned it. With every word, she felt the urge to kill rise up. She may not enjoy spending time with most children, but Trixie had made her far more protective of them.

She'd barely made it halfway through the letter before she snapped it closed. "I assume you want me to confirm this before I take care of the problem," she asked, all business now.

His expression was hard. "Not until you've dropped Trixie back home again."

Now she was actually offended. "As if I'd let her anywhere near a punishment." Not until she was older, at least.

Lucifer nodded, expression easing. "And do make certain no one can find the body. Remember, we're friends with the police now."

"No, you're playing _house_ with the police. I'm just barely starting to find them tolerable." Which was actually a remarkable amount of progress, given where they'd started, but she wasn't about to admit that. "But fine. I'll make sure no one finds the body."

And before that, she would make absolutely certain the man knew why he was going to Hell.

000

First, though, it was time for her and Trixie to peer in various windows like unimaginative Peeping Toms. If Trixie hadn't been there, it would have been unforgivably boring.

"It seems like children only have two settings – little monsters, or desperately dull," Maze muttered, flat against the wall of the apartment walkway. "I don't know how you stand them." This last part was addressed to Trixie, who had one eye on the nauseatingly domestic scene inside and the other on the notebook she was writing hurriedly in. The girl was taking this as seriously as Lucifer was, and though Maze couldn't begin to understand why there was something oddly endearing about it. 

Not that she would ever admit that out loud, of course.

Trixie shrugged as she turned her complete attention to the notebook. As she wrote, a man moved past them as if the walkway contained only shadows. Not even the string of white lights surrounding the window managed to draw attention to the demon and her young friend. "They're not so bad sometimes," Trixie said, then looked up at Maze with a smile. "You and Lucifer are a lot more fun, though."

Maze preened. "Of course we are." Then she felt her phone buzz in her pocket, and she scowled as she pulled it out. Lucifer had talked her into it so Trixie could reach her if she needed help, but the child wasn't the one who usually ended up using it.

Trixie leaned forward, interested. "Is it Mandy?"

Maze raised an eyebrow. "'Mandy?'"

"Lucifer's brother. He always calls Lucifer Luci, so I decided he should be Mandy so they match." Trixie tucked her notebook back into her backpack. "Is he texting to say goodnight?"

"Yes." Maze glared down at the phone, telling herself she should text him back something scathing. It was _incredibly_ annoying that she couldn't make herself do it, and as a result she never texted him back anything at all. "He always does. I don't know why he bothers."

"It's because he loves you," Trixie said matter-of-factly, taking Maze's free hand in hers. "Even though he's not here with you, he's thinking about you and wants you to have nice dreams."

There was a strange pressure in Maze's chest, and there was something seriously wrong with her stomach. She shoved the phone into Trixie's free hand. "Text him back and tell him he's lucky he's pretty."

Trixie happily obliged, one hand still in Maze's. Mazikeen, demon extraordinaire and Hell's greatest torturer, couldn't find it in her to let go.


	6. Chapter 6

Lucifer kept an ear open for any reports of homicides at the station the next day, but Maze had apparently been true to her word. There was also no missing person’s report, which hopefully meant the children’s mother was no more eager to see the missing man return.

He was careful not to mention any of that as he leaned over the back of Chloe’s desk chair, attempting to look professional as he breathed in the scent of her shampoo. He was trying to be better behaved in the station, helping Chloe project an aura of “team player” to counteract any lingering suspicion that might surround her after Dan’s arrest. The manipulation he’d done for the same purpose had come far easier – including the favors he’d called in to keep Dan safe during his prison sentence – but as long as he thought of it as role play it was tolerable enough.

“Looks like our missing girl is Molly Carraway,” Chloe announced, pulling up the police report. “Her parents reported her missing six months ago, after a fight with her father. No criminal history, for her or anyone in the family, or reports of any abuse at home.”

“Which matches what Maze and Trixie reported.” Lucifer had talked to a surprising number of young men and women who had run away from home over the last several years, and those who hadn’t been escaping terrible home environments generally wished they could go back. It probably wouldn’t take a great deal of effort to persuade Molly to return home.

Presuming they could find her, of course.

Chloe clicked over to another portion of the file, scanning for information. “You know,” she said absently, “I really should be more uncomfortable with letting a demon babysit my daughter.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic, darling.” Lucifer let his lips curve upward a little. Her disapproval was more of a reflex at this point – she’d put Maze on Trixie’s approved adults list, after all – a fact that Lucifer found surprisingly charming. “She brought her home in one piece, didn’t she?”

“With her face covered in chocolate sauce,” Chloe said wryly, looking up at him.

 _At least there wasn’t any blood_ was definitely not an appropriate response in these circumstances. See, Dr. Linda, he was perfectly capable of learning and growth. “She was trying to prove a point. It seems as though you’re not the only woman in my life with a tendency toward melodrama.”

Chloe’s lips quirked upward as she turned back to the computer screen. “You say that as if you’re not the High King of melodramatic gestures, _Satan Claus_.”

“Ooooh, I do like that name. Maybe I should get business—“ He cut himself off when he saw Chloe’s expression turn intent. “What do you see?”

She tapped her finger just beneath a name on the screen. “Keith Waters. Molly’s mom mentioned his name as the boyfriend of one of Molly’s friends. He wasn’t questioned at the time, because there was no sign of foul play, but his older brother David just happens to have several drug arrests under his belt.”

“A perfect recruiter.” Lucifer kept his voice low, though he could hear the edge that slipped into it. “Any chance you know where he is, so he and I can have a little conversation?”

“Not yet, and even when I find him the _three of us_ are going to have a ‘little conversation,’” she said firmly. “An _entirely legal_ conversation.” She held his gaze until he nodded. Lucifer had never been called biddable in his life – he’d gotten quite famous for the opposite, actually – but there were moments when she almost managed it. Once she’d gotten his agreement, it was back to the database. “I feel like I should warn you, Trixie’s started working on the list of Christmas movies for this year’s movie night. It’s pretty long.”

He listened to the studied nonchalance of the question, trying to put it together with the tension that had suddenly formed in the line of her jaw. She was still reluctant to let him come to this Christmas movie night, and he genuinely couldn’t tell whether it was because of the embarrassment she’d claimed or regret over allowing Trixie to push her into it. Being in a relationship was far more complicated than simply routinely having sex with someone, even when you added monogamy into it, and it was entirely possible that this was a corner of her life into which he was simply not welcome. He had been allowed into so many others that it was undoubtedly greedy to demand this as well, and avarice was one of the few sins that normally held little interest for him. The world was at his fingertips, and he didn't want heaven any more than heaven had wanted him. What more could he yearn for that he couldn't get with a snap of his fingers?

This, as it turned out. To know that there was room for him in every portion of their lives, even if it was on a couch in front of insipid television programming. And he hadn’t even needed Dr. Linda to help him figure that out.

Not that she – or Chloe, for that matter – would ever be hearing about it. “Regretting your offer to let me come?” he asked lightly, straightening. “Trixie _is_ quite the negotiator, and she had you neatly backed into a corner.”

Chloe swiveled her chair around to face him, studying his expression. “You’re serious about wanting to come,” she said finally, as if this was a revelation. She tilted her head, looking oddly baffled. “I got _years_ of pitying looks from Dan about this, and my mother has been officially banned from participating because she loves to critique every _single_ thing about it. And yet _you_ , who get bored more easily than your average five-year-old and regularly despair of my alcohol selection, _genuinely_ want to come. _Why_?”

Lucifer stood frozen for a moment, torn between the desire to slap both Dan and Chloe’s mother and distract Chloe to the point that he never had to answer her question. He hunted for something witty to say, scanned the room in the hopes that some sort of crime might magically appear, but all he found was Chloe looking up at him with those damnably perceptive eyes. “You did mention whipped cream….”

She gave him an exasperated look. “I’m serious, Lucifer.”

He sighed, giving in. “You and Trixie will be there,” he admitted finally, hoping she wouldn’t ask for details.

Chloe blinked, as if she hadn’t expected that answer, then she blinked again and Lucifer realized her eyes were damp. “Damn it.” Her voice was a little rough as she ducked her head, swiping her fingers across her eyes. “Of course I would do this while at work.” Then she looked back up at him, her expression tender. “You are the worst Devil ever, you know that?”

Lucifer wasn’t entirely certain what had just happened, but all he needed to know was that his chest was warm and Chloe was smiling at him. “From you, I consider that the highest of compliments.”


	7. Chapter 7

“You’ve decided to play Santa Claus.” Dr. Linda’s voice was flat. “Because of a spelling error.”

“No, _Satan_ Claus,” Lucifer corrected her, leaning back against the couch. “Chloe’s the one who came up with it, actually.”

“So Detective Decker _does_ know about this little project of yours?” Dr. Linda leaned forward, an urgency in the question that made no sense to him. “She didn’t assume it was a joke?”

Lucifer scoffed. Chloe knew him better than that. “Oh, she’s quite aware of what I’m planning. She’s helping me with one of the gifts, and on the rest has insisted on serving as consultant.” His lips curved upward slightly. “Ridiculously fond of legalities, that one.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” Dr. Linda collapsed back in her chair, looking utterly relieved. “I’ll let her deal with this one, then.”

Lucifer just looked at her, amused. “What, no Christmas spirit?” He gestured around the office, free of the holiday decorations that had started to encroach the city.

She straightened, looking utterly professional once again. “This room is a safe space for clients. Decorating it in honor of one December holiday may alienate those who celebrate a different one, or none at all.” Lucifer opened his mouth to ask about the other holidays – Christmas had proven far more interesting than he’d always assumed, which means that these others might as well – but Dr. Linda pushed ahead. “What I’m really interested in is why you’ve chosen to embrace a different metaphor, even temporarily.”

“Oh, I’m still the Devil.” He stretched his arms out along the back of the couch. “I’ve just picked up a… side job, you could say.”

“Why Santa? Why not, say, Krampus?” She gestured at an imaginary list of options. “His job is to punish the wicked children, the same way that Satan’s job is to punish sinners. Given your insistence that you’re the Devil, I would think that you would reach for Krampus rather than a figure who embodies the spirit of love and giving.”

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. He would never understand why humans insisted on adoring manipulative old men who always passed the difficult jobs onto someone else. “I would bet you a considerable amount of money that not even Krampus wants to be doing Krampus’s job,” Lucifer said darkly. “Besides, Santa’s a dealmaker, just like I am. He gives toys where I generally offer things like sex or power, but the principle is the same. When Trixie informed me that he doesn’t exist, and the parents don’t always hold up his end of the bargain in his place, it was natural for me to step in.”

“Trixie.” Dr. Linda gave a particular emphasis to the word that always meant she’d pounced on some idea. “She’s the one who gave you the idea?”

“Technically,” he said, suddenly wary. Dr. Linda had already tried tying his relationship with Trixie to his issues with his father. It... hadn’t been pleasant. “She’s been… assisting me with various aspects of the project.”

“Ah.” And she sounded far too knowing now. He was definitely in trouble. “How long has it been since you’ve celebrated the holidays with a child? Or anyone close to you, for that matter?”

Lucifer couldn’t have kept the bitterness out of his voice even if he’d wanted to. “Oh, Father’s not terribly big on holidays, or even acknowledging his children’s existence in most cases.” He didn’t mention his mother, knowing that would start an entirely _different_ discussion he was even _less_ interested in having. “Other than that, the closest I've ever come to celebrating Christmas were parties with peppermint schnapps in the mixed drinks and a few candy canes making surprise appearances in various orifices.” He'd never even heard of it until he'd come to Earth, though a few of the punishments people had chosen for themselves in Hell over the years suddenly made far more sense.

“Unfortunate imagery aside, is it possible that this Santa idea is your attempt to connect with Trixie?” Dr. Linda leaned forward slightly, encouraging. “That you’re trying to create an project you both can share that allows you to make sense of what is essentially a new experience for you?”

The way she phrased it gave the whole thing an edge of manipulation in Lucifer’s mind, one he didn’t like. “Trixie and I understand each other beautifully,” he snapped. “I went to her as a consultant on this because she’s an expert on human children, not because I wanted to bribe her into spending time with me.” He felt oddly defensive. “I don’t need to bribe her, or Chloe. They spend time with me anyway.”

Dr. Linda’s expression gentled. “I know they do.” Then she wrote something down in her notebook, and when she spoke again her tone was faux casual. “Have you thought about what to get them?”

That threw Lucifer. “What?”

“For Christmas.” At Lucifer’s continued blank look, disbelief flickered in her eyes before her brow furrowed. “Even when people outgrow a belief in Santa Claus, people give gifts at Christmas to those they care for. It shows them how much we love and appreciate them.”

All he could do was stare at her. “I have to give them gifts?” When she nodded, he leaned forward. “Oh bloody hell.”

Dr. Linda looked skeptical. “Surely this can’t be too much of a challenge. You care for them both, and have no trouble spending money.”

“I’ve _tried_.” If he’d had his way, both Chloe and Trixie would have everything their hearts desired the moment they wanted it. Unfortunately, Chloe had a different perspective on the matter. “Do you have any idea how many times Chloe has said ‘no’ to me when I attempt to buy either of them something? Clothing, toys, jewelry, vehicles... I would buy them both a _house_ if I thought there was any chance of Chloe accepting. As it is, I have to hide her wallet before she’ll let me pay for dinner out of turn. I’ve even had to cut back on the chocolate cake I give Trixie.”

Dr. Linda looked surprised at the vehemence in his voice. “Maybe something meaningful, then. Coupons for certain activities?” Her eyes narrowed at whatever flicker of expression she saw on his face. “Not necessarily sexual activities. The chance to spend time together.”

He thought about the expression on Chloe’s face when he’d said he wanted to come to movie night, then shook his head. He was the Lord of Hell, and not even _he_ was arrogant enough to assume his company could be considered a _gift_ in any area but the bedroom. “I am giving one of these children a _pony_ , and I don’t even know any of them. And yet I’m supposed to give Chloe and Trixie pieces of _paper_?” His tone was scathing. “I expect your next idiotic suggestion will be that I should give my brother something for Christmas as well.”

Dr. Linda paused. “Well, actually....”


	8. Chapter 8

“I still don’t know why I agreed to this.”

Lucifer didn’t even glance over at Amenadiel as he knocked on the Jorgensen’s very expensive front door. The miniature pony, less than interested in waiting next to them, was contentedly chewing on the Jorgensen’s front lawn. “Luckily for me, I don’t actually care why. The fact that you’re doing it is all that matters to me.”

“Ah, there’s the Luci I thought I knew.”

Now Lucifer glanced over, raising an eyebrow. “Someone’s feeling catty this evening.” But there was an undercurrent of actual misery beneath his brother’s snark, and Lucifer felt a prick of something he still refused to admit was empathy. “If you’re serious, though, I suppose you could try talking to Dr. Linda.” Amenadiel didn’t respond, his expression shifting into a full out glower, and Lucifer realized what he’d missed. “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you haven’t gotten her to forgive you by now.”

Amenadiel pouted. He actually _pouted_. “We haven’t spoken.”

“Well, don’t be such a weakling and get to it.” Lucifer knocked on the door again. “She becomes exasperated with me on a regular basis, and she hasn’t refused to continue seeing me.” He winced, remembering his last session. “Though admittedly, Dr. Linda might be slipping. She actually suggested I need to get _you_ a Christmas present.”

Amenadiel mulled over the thought.  “Which would imply that I need to get _you_ a Christmas present.” Color drained from his face. “That’s an alarming thought.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Lucifer rang the bell – he was beginning to rethink the child’s worthiness – then a thought hit him. “You know, that’s an idea – what if I give you the gift of not having to worry about giving me a gift?” He turned to his brother. “Think of the psychological distress I’m sparing you.”

Amenadiel looked faintly amused now. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

Lucifer knocked on the door again. One more minute, and then he was going to take the pony and deliver it to the undoubtedly far more deserving child next door. “It works however we want it—“

The door suddenly opened to reveal an annoyed-looking teenage boy. “What do—“

Amenadiel snapped his fingers before the teenager could finish the sentence, freezing time and every poor soul stuck in it. Lucifer went back for the pony, tucking it under his arm and scooting aside the teenager so he could move past him and into the house. Amenadiel followed, bemused.

Lucifer found the room with the tree, covered with silver balls and white bows that matched the pristine white carpet. He set down the pony, tucked the envelope with the information about the stables in it underneath the red bow around its neck, then started wandering the house for the small child who’d written the letter.

Amenadiel followed him. “Do you think I should get Maze something?” he asked finally, voice quiet.

Lucifer waved a hand behind him, alarmed by the vulnerability he could hear in the question. “No. I refuse to have that discussion with you.” When there was no response, he stopped, turning around to point an accusatory finger at him. “And you are not stealing my idea of a ninjato. A sword is one of the very few stabby accessories she doesn’t have.”

Amenadiel’s eyebrows lifted. “Are you sure that’s the best idea?”

Lucifer made a dismissive noise. “Oh, it’s human made. I don’t want her killing _me_ with it.”

Amenadiel smirked. “As long as Chloe Decker isn’t around.”

Lucifer glared at his brother, then whirled around and resumed his search. “Well, then I’ll have to make sure not to annoy Maze too profoundly when Chloe’s in the room, won’t I?”

Amenadiel followed him for awhile in silence, even into the bedroom where a five year old boy was laying on his bed playing with his phone. Deciding this must be Matt – as far as he’d seen, there were no other children in the house, pulled the phone out of the boy’s hands and tossed it on the bed before picking up the child. When he turned around to see Amenadiel standing in the doorway, he glared at him again. “You could help, you know?”

“Oh, I’m being helpful.” He smirked again. “I haven’t restarted time, have I?”

With a huff, Lucifer pushed past him and carried the child down the stairs. Laying him on the long, white couch next to the horse – it would be terrible PR if he let the child get trampled – he tipped him sideways so the boy could see the horse. Then he pulled the headband with the Devil horns out of his pocket, sticking it on the pony’s head.

Amenadiel headed into the living room much more sedately. “What are you getting her and Trixie?” he asked after a moment, his tone far more gentle than it had been.

It scraped against the worry that had been eating at him since his appointment with Dr. Linda. “I don’t know! Every time I try to buy them something, Chloe gets _annoyed_. I may be new to this whole Christmas thing, but I do know that a gift is supposed to put the recipient in a _better_ mood, not a worse one.” He pulled out the gift tag, reading “From Satan Claus,” and hung it off one of the horns. “What do you think?” he asked, gesturing at the scene.

Amenadiel looked back and forth between the boy and the horse, an expression on his face that Lucifer couldn’t read. “You baffle me,” he said finally, the words sounding utterly honest.

Lucifer shrugged. “I have no idea why.” He moved to the window, opening it just enough that any sounds from inside could be heard by two angels lurking in the shadows. “I’m wildly uncomplicated.”

They headed outside, removing the teenager’s hand from the door and shutting it behind them. Then, when they were safely outside and watching from the shadows, Amenadiel snapped his fingers and restarted time. There was the muffled sound of the teenager speaking from by the door, then a much louder “What the hell?!” Lucifer barely had time to appreciate the accidental pun before the five year old noticed the pony, shrieked in delight and flung himself bodily at the animal.

Next to him, Amenadiel’s expression had gone suspiciously soft. “You could ask her,” he said finally, his tone gentle.

Uncomfortable with the sympathy – or, he could admit silently, the way that sympathy made his throat tighten a little – Lucifer cleared his throat. “I get the definite sense that’s not how it’s supposed to work.”

“And when have you ever  cared about ‘the way things are supposed to work?’” There was something that might have been brotherly affection in his voice. “Besides, the kids sent you letters telling you what they want. How is that any different than asking Chloe and Trixie what _they_ want?”

Inside the house, the parents had found their way downstairs and were staring at the pony as if it had materialized out of thin air. Which it, in fact, had.

“You’re making sense to me. That’s alarming.” Lucifer tried to keep his voice light, but he couldn’t quite keep the roughness out of it. “You can get her the sword. I’ll find something else suitably lethal to present to her.”

He glanced over at his brother, who smiled back at him. “Merry Christmas, Brother,” Amenadiel said softly.

Lucifer didn’t quite trust his voice enough to say anything back. Thankfully, his brother seemed to understand.


	9. Chapter 9

Catchy pop songs filled Chloe and Trixie’s living room, the singers careful to include the word “Christmas,” “Santa” or “snow” every couple of sentences in order to fill some sort of invisible quota. Trixie didn’t seem to care what they were saying, bouncing around the room with an abandon that made the songs more appealing by default. Chloe varied, matching her daughter’s abandon on some songs but on others content to simply bob her head and shake her hips a little. Lucifer, watching, approved all of the above options.

(He mostly didn’t join in himself. Though he was an excellent dancer, most of his moves fell firmly into the category of “immediate prelude to sex,” which wasn’t going to do here. Thankfully, they seemed content with the occasional shimmy and one full spin that they deemed impressive enough to applaud.)

Between the dancing, they managed to decorate the tree. The lights had been an utter disaster – Lucifer had ended up paying one of Chloe’s neighbors $100 for the extra boxes they’d already purchased – but the ornaments were proving far simpler. Trixie had paused her dancing long enough to hand him his next ornament, a striped star with a smiley face that seemed to be one of Trixie’s own creations, and Lucifer paused to examine the best place for it on the tree. “I still think I should be offended,” he told Chloe, continuing the conversation they’d been having. “I bet you no one ever called 911 after this mythical Santa person left them something.”

“Oh, if he were real, I’m pretty sure at least a few people out there would be calling 911 on Santa,” Chloe countered, hanging a stuffed reindeer on the tree. “Besides, it’s not like you’re in trouble or anything. Dispatch thought it was the funniest thing ever that someone called to report that an intruder had snuck in and left a pony in their living room.” She smiled, like she was picturing it. “Complete with gift tags. In December.”

Seeing her expression, Lucifer immediately regretted not asking her if she’d wanted to come. He’d assumed she wouldn’t, given the semi-illegal nature of the whole thing, but stories were never quite enough to capture all the nuances of a moment. He’d already given out most of the gifts this year – they still hadn’t found Molly yet – but there was always next year....

 Next to him, Trixie stopped dancing and looked up at him with a curious expression. “Why did you do it so early? Christmas isn’t until December 25.”

Realizing he’d been caught staring, Lucifer hurriedly hung the star on the tree and reached a hand out for another one. “Well, I certainly didn’t want some imaginary old man getting all the credit.” He sighed. As little as he trusted the judgment of the average child, it was sometimes clearly superior to their parents. “For all the good that did me.”

“Maybe one of the local news stations will pick it up,” Trixie offered consolingly, leaning over to give him a hug.  “Besides, it’ll be good PR.”

Chloe winced a little at that. “Have you been talking to Grandma again?”

“Yep.” Trixie let go of Lucifer, handing a different reindeer to Lucifer. “She wanted to talk me into doing some Christmas telethon thing, but I told her I was too busy helping Lucifer.”

Chloe got a long-suffering look on her face, one that Lucifer always privately translated to mean “It’s wrong that I’m not legally allowed to punch more people.” To distract her, he caught her hand and twirled it around over her head, and when she caught his gaze again she gave him a little smile that said she understood what he was trying to do. Then she turned back to Trixie, giving herself completely over to the “boogying” for just a moment.

Lucifer let himself just watch them for a moment, a whole battalion of emotions crowding his chest. A line from the song caught his attention – _All I want for Christmas is yooou_ – and he was briefly amazed at how exactly it described everything he was feeling.

Chloe stopped dancing, picking up a miniature decorated tree ornament and heading back to the tree. “Besides, you don’t want word to get around too far,” she said, stretching up to press a kiss against Lucifer’s cheek. “Enough people start writing you letters, you won’t have any time for us, the bar, or dealing with your family issues.”

“True,” Lucifer admitted, accepting a glitter-covered ball from Trixie. He knew it would end up all over his clothes – this was far from his first experience with glitter, though it was by far the most innocent. “Also, Maze will probably murder me if I tried to turn her into an elf on a permanent basis, so there’s that.”

“And then I’d have to shoot her, and it would be awkward for everyone,” Chloe added, smiling at him. Lucifer, touched by the implication, leaned forward for a much more serious kiss.

After a few delightful moments, Trixie dramatically cleared her throat. “Guys, we _do_ have a tree to finish.”

000

Finally, they did finish, and it was time to change into pajamas and prepare the hot chocolate. By the time he was finished, Chloe was already working on the hot chocolate, and Lucifer paused and let himself admire the shape of Chloe’s ass in her pajama pants before he spoke. “So,” he said, holding his arms out for inspection. “What do you think?”

Chloe turned around, taking in the set of burgundy pajamas and matching robe. “Nice.” She paused, brow furrowing. “Those are new, right?”

“I felt like the lounge pants I keep beside the bed for surprise Trixie appearances didn’t technically count as ‘pajamas.’ Other than that, I don’t own any actual sleepwear.” He raised an eyebrow. “As you well know.”

Her cheeks colored a little. “Right.”

He moved behind her, sliding his arms around her waist. She settled back against him, the gesture automatic, and Lucifer marveled all over again at how much he enjoyed just being close to her like this. “I’m curious. What made you decide to start this?”

She shrugged a little, adding a swirl of spray whipped cream to each mug. “When I was in middle school I had a friend whose family did the whole nine yards at Christmas – a big Christmas Eve dinner, matching pajamas they all wore Christmas morning, the complete Norman Rockwell package. She absolutely _hated_ it, but I always thought it sounded really nice. This isn’t exactly that, of course, but I try.” When she was finished, she looked back over her shoulder at him. “I know I’m going to regret asking this, but should I put on more?”

At that point Trixie came in, wearing Lucifer’s old robe over her own pajamas. She gave Lucifer another hug, rubbing her cheek against the fabric of the robe. “Oooh, silky.” Then she started tugging Lucifer into the living room, accepting the hot chocolate her mother handed her. “Come on. The disc menu for ‘Nightmare Before Christmas’ is up.”

Accepting his own hot chocolate, Lucifer followed her and Chloe into the living room. He sat down on the couch first, with both girls sitting down on either side of him and snuggling in close. Gingerly, Lucifer set his hot chocolate on the side table settled his arms around both of them, feeling strangely breathless and unsteady.

“It’ll be hard for you to drink your hot chocolate like that,” Trixie warned him, pressing play on the movie. “Not that I want you to stop, but I feel like I should warn you.”

Chloe pulled away only long enough to set the whipped cream and her mug on the side table next to his, then settled back against him again. “Don’t stop,” she told him, smiling a little. “We can drink our hot chocolate later.”

A lump in his throat, Lucifer tightened his arms around both of them. “That sounds like an excellent plan.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Nightmare Before Christmas” should have come with a warning label. Beware – may give the Lord of Hell _feelings_.

Three days later, he could still hear snatches of the songs playing in his head. Not all of them, of course, just the ones that made something twist inside his chest. “Jack’s Lament" was bad enough – _there’s something out there, far from my home/A longing that, I’ve never known_ – but “What’s This?” was actually far worse. _And in my bones I feel the warmth that’s coming from inside... This empty place inside of me is filling up/I simply cannot get enough/I want it, oh I want it, oh I want it for my own!_

He shook his head, chasing the lyrics away. They were in Chloe’s car, waiting for David Waters to wander out of the strip club and be useful, and he should be thinking about punishment and violence. Not singing skeletons who felt a little too familiar for Lucifer’s peace of mind.

The words that fell out of his mouth, however, apparently didn’t agree. “I feel like I should talk to this Danny Elfman person.”

Next to him, Chloe shot him a sympathetic look. Which was worrying – if his obsession wasn’t annoying her, he must be truly being pathetic about it. “I don’t think it would work, Lucifer,” she said gently. “I’m almost positive he woudn’t believe you.”

He sighed. “I wouldn’t need him to believe me. I would just... tell him the story.” He looked down at his hands, the same one who had started picking out the notes to “What’s This?” the last time he’d sat at a piano. “Surely anyone who could write those lyrics would be sympathetic.”

_Instead of screams I swear I can hear music in the air...._

He set his jaw, forcing the lyrics away again. The fact that Chloe and Trixie were on his side already defied all probability. No one else would be. “But Jack still went back to Halloween Town, didn’t he?”

“Yeah.” She looked sad as she reached out, squeezing his hand. “I keep feeling like I should apologize for showing you the movie.”

“No. It was a good story.” He let out a breath, lips twisting with a bitterness he could never quite hide. “Very true to life.”

“No it isn’t.” Chloe’s voice was suddenly firm as she nudged his arm, making him looking at her. “It may be selfish of me, but I definitely don’t want my Jack going back to Halloween Town.” She smiled a little. “He needs to stay here with me.”

And there was that warmth Jack had been talking about. “I’m not going anywhere, no matter what the Great Scriptwriter in the Sky wants.” Desperately grateful but unable to express it, he nudged the conversation to a lighter topic. “I’m not ruining Christmas, though, am I? Tell me I at least have better taste than Jack did.”

Chloe laughed. “Oh, you definitely have better taste than Jack.” She squeezed his hand again as she shifted her gaze back to the strip club. “Also, you had the good sense to actually listen to your Sally, so that’s another plus.”

Lucifer followed her gaze. “You’re so much more interesting than Sally. Had you been anywhere near Halloween Town, you’d have been running it in a week.” He narrowed his eyes as a young man slouched out of the club, the neon lights just bright enough to pick out his features. “And I believe _that_ is the miscreant we’ve been waiting for.”

Waters didn’t flinch or try to run as they approached, a sign that he he’d drunk just enough that his ego was throttling his sense of self-preservation to death. He waited while Chloe flashed her badge, informing him that they had a couple of questions about the disappearance of Molly Carraway. Instead of responding, Waters spat on on Chloe's shoe.

So Lucifer flicked him in the forehead, hard enough to make Waters angrily jerk his head up and reach around behind him for the gun he undoubtedly kept in his waistband. He felt Chloe move out of the corner of his eye, either worried about the gun or what Lucifer was planning on doing, but rather than anything dramatic he simply flashed his hell eyes at him.

Waters screamed and tried to jerk away, but Lucifer reached out and grabbed the front of his filthy shirt. Then he smiled. “Let’s try answering the nice detective’s questions again, shall we?”

000

In the end, Chloe didn’t even need to stop him from killing anyone. Waters pissed himself, promptly telling them everything they needed to know before passing out. Molly’s pimp was only slightly more complicated, since he obliged by having an active warrant out for his arrest, and Lucifer barely had time to give his arm a compound fracture before Chloe had him in handcuffs. Molly, as Lucifer had expected, promptly threw herself into their arms and started sobbing.

Well, Lucifer’s arms, to be precise. That part, he hadn’t actually anticipated.

Now, they were standing on the sidewalk in front of the Carraway’s home, watching Chloe knock on the door. Next to him, Molly was shivering inside the blanket Chloe had wrapped her in, and Lucifer took off his own jacket and draped it around her shoulders. “You’ll be fine,” he said quietly, hesitantly patting her back in what he hoped was a comforting manner. “You’re only a few moments away from tears and hugs.”

Molly shook her head, looking miserable. She’d refused to let Chloe call her parents the entire time they’d been at the station, though she’d consented to come home easily enough. “They’ll hate me,” she whispered.

He slid an arm all the way around her. If they did, Lucifer would set something else up for her. “Your sister will be happy to see you, if nothing else. She asked for you to come home for Christmas.”

Molly looked up at Lucifer, clearly shocked, just as the front door opened. The husband was at the door, joined by the wife an instant later, but Chloe barely had time to get a few words out of her mouth before the wife looked past her to see Molly. She immediately shoved past her husband, running out towards the street, and Lucifer had the good sense to step out of the way as the woman flung her arms around Molly with a sob. Molly, clutching her mother, immediately started crying again as well.

The husband was only a few steps behind, wrapping them both up, and it wasn’t too terribly long before they heard a shriek from inside the house and Katie ran out in her nightgown to join her family. They were a sobbing, snot-covered, wonderful mess, and Lucifer felt some of that warmth in his chest again as he headed toward Chloe.

They met halfway, watching the family reunion from the middle of the lawn. Chloe had a soft smile on her face as she glanced up at him. “Not going to take credit for the present, Satan Claus?”

Lucifer shrugged, utterly uninterested in interrupting the family’s moment. “I only deserve partial credit for this one. Besides, I’d rather not subject this shirt to the amount of tears and snot that would be involved.”  He looked over at Chloe. “I am curious, however, why you let me get away with the broken arm. Usually, you yell at me well before then.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment, watching the scene in front of her. “I can’t let you kill anyone,” she said quietly. Then she looked up at him, steel in her eyes. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t _understand_.”

Lucifer went breathless. He would never do that to her, never allow anyone else to do that to her, but it hit him quite suddenly that Chloe would make a _magnificent_ Queen of Hell.

He pushed the thought away, smoothing a hand along Chloe’s back. “Come on,” he said quietly. “Let’s go home.”

She followed him for a few steps, then stopped. “Wait, your jacket....”

He shook his head, urging her on. “I suspect there’s enough snot on it at this point to give an entire school full of children colds. It’s given its life for a noble purpose.”

Smiling now, Chloe followed him to the car.


	11. Chapter 11

After “The Nightmare Before Christmas” had affected him so profoundly, Chloe had been half afraid that Lucifer wouldn’t want to be there Christmas morning. But here he was, in his lounge pants and new robe – Trixie was wearing his old one – sitting next to the Christmas tree opening presents with them. Trixie insisted on going first, giving them both handmade picture frames with a selfie of the three of them that she’d gotten off of Chloe’s phone and printed off. Lucifer, wisely, had looked appropriately moved by the gift.

Unfortunately, things immediately took a turn for the worst when Trixie opened up her gift from Chloe’s mother. “Make-up!” Trixie squealed happily, ripping off the paper to reveal the _huge_ make-up kit. “Now I can try all different kinds of colors!”

Chloe sighed, feeling the echo of the same headache her mother always seemed to inspire in her. She’d tossed her own, still-wrapped present from the woman into the back of her closet, but she hadn’t felt like she could deny Trixie a gift she’d been expecting. “Remember not at school, though, sweetie.”

Trixie nodded. “I could do your make-up, too, Mom! Grandma’s always saying you should wear more.”

Catching Chloe’s eye, Lucifer gently but firmly tugged the box out of Trixie’s hands and set it aside. “How about we set this aside for the moment, and later I’ll let you make me over into the prettiest princess we all know I truly am.”

Mollified, Trixie dove back under the tree for another gift, and Chloe had time to give Lucifer a quick kiss and silent thank you before she came out with an envelope. She sat back as she read it, turning to her with a curious expression. “I’ve never gotten an envelope before.” She turned to Lucifer. “What kind of present can you fit in an envelope?”

He waved a hand at her, looking suddenly tense. “Why don’t you open it and find out?”

As Trixie happily ripped open the envelope, Chloe glanced over at Lucifer and felt an odd bubble of panic rising up in her chest. She was almost certain it was a check, and for an amount that would be far more money than he should be handing out. But how could she tell him no on _Christmas morning,_ especially when he looked so worried about whether she’d like it?

Trixie pulled out whatever was in the envelope, her face lighting up. “Disneyland tickets! Three of them!” Her smile got even wider as she turned to Lucifer. “You’ll come with us, right?”

Okay, that was better. Lucifer looked so utterly relieved by Trixie’s response that Chloe reached out and squeezed his leg. “I’d intended on it.” Then he hesitated. “Actually, it’s more like you’re coming with me. It seems as though Jack Skellington takes over their haunted house until early January, and… well, I would appreciate the company.”

Trixie gave him a solemn nod. “Of course.” Then she threw herself at him for the hug, hard enough that he rocked back a little. “We’ll protect you from the feelings.”

Lucifer looked startled for a second, like he hadn’t quite been prepared for the impact of a hug where they were both on the same level, then tightened his arms around her.

Chloe took a picture on her phone, reaching under the tree for another gift. The closest one was squishy and wrapped in shiny red wrapping paper, and when she pulled it out she saw that it was her gift from Lucifer. She gave it another thoughtful squeeze, decided there was probably too much fabric in there for it to be lingerie, and held it up. “Want to see what Lucifer got me?”

Trixie immediately turned around at that, bouncing back into her original position. It made it easier to see Lucifer’s face, which was even more worried than it had been for Trixie’s gift. That lessened the chance it was something naughty – he’d be giving her an entirely _different_ look – but made her more careful with her response. No matter what it was, she was determined to love it.

Lucifer eyed the package as if it might bite him. “Remember, if you don’t like it I’ll be happy to return it and get you something else. It can even be something more expensive.”

She carefully tore open one of the sides and peeled the paper back. “I told you, Lucifer. You don’t have to spend—“ She stopped when she saw the burgundy fabric, the exact same shade as the robe Lucifer was currently wearing and just as silkily expensive. She pulled it out, holding up a pajama top that looked like the women’s version of the set Lucifer had worn for movie night.

“There’s an entire set in there in the same color, including robes, for both you and Trixie,” Lucifer explained, anxiousness making him speak a little faster than usual. “Technically, the set for Trixie probably shouldn’t count as your gift, but if I had them wrap them separately it would look like Trixie got two gifts and you received one. And, technically, part of Trixie’s gift was for you, so….”

Chloe’s throat tightened when she realized what Lucifer had done. “Matching pajamas,” she breathed, dropping her arms and staring at him in astonishment. “You… you got us all matching pajamas.”

He hesitated again, as if he still wasn’t sure he was reading her response right. “For next year, I thought,” he said carefully.

Chloe had to blink hard at that, her eyes stinging. He remembered the comment she’d made on movie night, about her longing for a Norman Rockwell-style Christmas, and instead of disparaging it like everyone else had he’d given her a little piece of it. A piece, more importantly, that he’d included himself in.

She was suddenly, absolutely certain that she’d put the wrong gift for Lucifer under the tree. Without a word she leaned over to grab the package, a three-disc set of less well-known blues artists, then stood up and headed to the bedroom.

“Mom?” Trixie asked, looking up from the pajamas she was currently rooting through to find her set. “Where are you going?”

“I told you, I’d be happy to return them if you didn’t like them!” Lucifer called out. “You don’t have to take my present!”

Shoving the package under the bed – it’s not like he wouldn’t find it anyway – she reached into her drawer and pulled out the other gift. Hurrying back into the living room, she dropped down next to Lucifer.  “This is your real present.” Her voice was still thick with emotion, her heart pounding for reasons that had nothing to do with the fact she’d just been hurrying. “Hold out your hand.”

He raised an eyebrow, expression guarded but curious. “If you’re about to do something delightfully inventive, I feel like I should remind you that your daughter is still in the room.”

Chloe raised her own eyebrow right back. She’d learned a while ago that the suggestive comments were more of a defense mechanism than anything else. “Hold out your hand.”

When he did, finally, she dropped the chain and pendant into it. His brow furrowed as he realized what it was, letting most of it slip down and hang so he could get a better look. “If you had fantasies about men wearing gold chains, darling, you should have told—“

She knew the exact moment he read the pendant, shock rushing in to chase everything else off his face. Then it cracked, slowly transforming into the expression Chloe had privately labeled Lucifer’s “I’m drowning in my feelings and don’t know what to do” face. He tore his gaze away from the necklace only to look over at Chloe, a thousand different questions in his eyes.

They’d never said the words. But when she’d seen the simple, rectangular pendant with the words “You are loved” written on it, she’d wanted nothing more than to give it to Lucifer. “By both of us,” she said quietly, her heart in her throat. “In case you forget it sometimes.”

Trixie, who’d come around behind Lucifer to get a better look at the necklace, slid her arms around his neck. “It’s true,” she said, pressing a kiss against his cheek.

Lucifer, eyes wet, still didn’t look like he could manage words. Instead, he squeezed Trixie’s arm, then leaned over and kissed Chloe with such a wealth of emotion that she felt her own eyes get wet.

When they broke apart, Lucifer cleared his throat. “Well, someone put it on me,” he managed, voice still rough. “Those clasps can be death traps, and I’m in no condition to manage this one.”

Trixie happily obliged.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to thank you guys for being some of the best reviewers I've ever had for any story in any universe. It's kept me going.

They spent most of the day together, but Lucifer had no interest in following Chloe and Trixie to their visit with Dan in prison. The timing actually worked out surprisingly well, since a few minutes later Maze called and said she’d let everyone in Lux raid the bar if he didn’t get down to the club immediately.

Chloe kissed his cheek as they both headed out the door. “So are you gone for the rest of the night?”

He shook his head, petting Trixie’s hair as she threw her arms around him for a hug. “Call me as soon as you get back. If I have to, I’ll simply close and chase everyone out onto the street.”

When he got to the club, Maze was on her way out the door as well. “I’m taking the rest of the day off,” she announced, striding past him in one of her “murder” outfits. “And possibly tomorrow.”

He took a few steps after her. “Not yet, Maze.”

She turned around, shooting him a “you’ve got to be kidding me” look. “Do you really think you can stop me right now?”

“I’m not trying to stop you, I just want you to wait for a few minutes.” Wrapping hadn’t seemed like the best idea, but it was entirely possible he’d have to chain her to something if he wanted her to wait while he fetched it from the office. “I have something—“

She held up a hand to cut him off, expression shifting from defiance to amused reprimand. “Lucifer,” she said, almost kindly. “If you try to give me a Christmas present, I’ll have to punch you.”

He paused at that, studying her expression. Once he was sure she was serious, he settled back with a small smile. “Well, I suppose I’ll just have to save it for next time you’re due a bribe or apology gift.”

Her lips curved upward a little. “That sounds like a sensible life plan.” Then she turned and strode out the door.

“Don’t leave any bodies where Chloe can see them!” he called after her, then turned around and studied the people scattered around the bar. There weren’t nearly as many people as usual, undoubtedly due to the holiday, and he should have no trouble chasing them out when the time came.

Until then, he might as well relax and have a drink. He slipped behind the bar to pour himself a scotch, nodding at the older man sitting on the other side who raised his own glass of scotch. “Drink of champions,” he said, his accent definite but vague enough it could have come from anywhere.

“Indeed.” Lucifer held up his own glass in a vague approximation of a toast, then took his first sip as he casually studied the other man. He was dressed nearly as well as Lucifer himself was, in a forest green suit and vest that looked expensive. His white goatee was neatly trimmed, his skin a light brown that left his ethnicity impossible to identify, and he wore his age lightly enough that the specific number clearly didn’t matter to the man. Before Chloe, propositioning him might have been a lovely way to spend the rest of the evening.

Now, he simply circled back around to the other side of the bar with his drink. “Normally, I would say take off your jacket and stay awhile, but we’ll be closing early tonight,” he told the man. “Just a bit of warning, if you were planning on settling in.”

“No, too much to do.” The man shot him a curious look. “Why the early hours? Big party tonight?”

Lucifer shook his head. “The only reason I’m here at all is because my—“ He stopped, not even the possessive quite as terrifying as the word that had been about to slip out. _My family_. He didn’t want to even think it, as if that alone would be enough to call the wrath of his Father down on his head and have it snatched away again. He reached up, unconsciously, to touch the pendant he'd tucked inside his shirt. “—my... people had to visit her ex.”

“Your ‘people.’” Now he was definitely amused. "Is that what you young folks are calling it these days?”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “I’m not as young as you think.”

“That’s true.” The man took a thoughtful sip. “You’re certainly not younger than me, for all it feels that way. I have to remind myself sometimes that you technically predate humanity.”

Lucifer blinked, straightening. “Excuse me?”

The man shook his head. “But after a few millennia, age doesn’t matter, right?” He finished the last of his drink, sliding off the stool. “I have to go, but good job with those kids. Especially the Carraway girls – stellar work, there.” He paused. “I’m not sure I would have handled Mazikeen’s side project in quite the way you did, but it got the job done. Can’t argue with that.”

Drink forgotten, Lucifer turned around to glare at the man. He didn’t feel like an angel, or a demon, and he doubted anyone his mother had sent would be quite so affable. “Who _are_ you, exactly?”

The man picked up his coat from the barstool next to him. “Well, there’s one of two ways American Christmas stories usually end, and if I could make it snow for these poor souls I would have done so a long time ago.” He leaned forward, voice lowering conspiratorially. “They’re in a drought, you know.”

One night of Christmas movies was enough to pick up the implication in the comment, but it did nothing to lower Lucifer’s suspicions. He didn’t _like_ liars. “Santa Claus doesn’t exist,” he said, the warning clear in his voice as he stood up and moved closer. “Who are you _really_?”

The man leaned against the bar, looking amused again. “If you’re saying that a fat man doesn’t live at the North Pole in a toy factory full of elves, that’s true. But you of all people should know that the official story is sometimes far from accurate.” He sighed, expression sobering for a moment. “ _I_ should have known. The Krampus stories come from me as much as the Santa Claus ones do. I had no place thinking you were anything less.”

That last part threw him as much or more than the talk about Krampus and Santa Claus. “Of course you did. I’m _Satan_.”

“Just a job title,” the man said easily. “And one less suited to you than others, as I’m sure your family would agree.”

“Oh, of _course_ ,” Lucifer shot back. “Father’s the one who forced the job on me in the first place, but I’m sure he thinks I’m meant for something _better_.”

“I didn’t mean that family.” He reached out as Lucifer froze, giving him a gentle pat on the arm. “One day, you won’t be so scared to call them that. Anyone who sees you with Chloe and Trixie can tell easily enough.”

Lucifer told himself that the man was just good at reading people. There was no way he’d actually heard the thought.

The man smiled again as he moved away from the bar. “Any chance I might pass on some select letters to you next year as well? Appropriately addressed, of course.”

Lucifer just stared. “If I’m available,” he said faintly.

“Of course, of course.” The man seemed pleased as he slipped his coat on. “Either way, rest assured that you’re officially on my nice list, Lucifer Morningstar.”

Then, laying a finger beside his nose, he disappeared.

Lucifer stared at the spot where he had been for a long moment. “Bloody hell,” he said finally. “He’s the one who made sure that first letter got to me, wasn’t he?”

The only answer was the candy cane that suddenly appeared in his scotch.

Lucifer glared at it as he pulled it out, then upward in the vague direction of the ceiling. “I get the point, but you shouldn’t do that to good alcohol.”

When there was no response, Lucifer sighed and returned to his drink.

**Author's Note:**

> Come check out my new original fiction on my [blog](http://jennifferwardell.blogspot.com) or say hi to me on [Tumblr](http://sanctuaryforalluniverses.tumblr.com)!


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